My Opposite My Exact
by lillyinblack
Summary: There are some in this world that are simply not meant to mix. Most of the times, their paths never cross, but sometimes they do. In a world that is already begining to fall, the differences between people become unimportant. Rating may change in later.
1. Act 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything Diablo or Diablo II related.

**Author's Note / Introduction:** This is something that I have wanted to write for a long time. Basically, this story shall travel through the Diablo II and DII: LOD storyline as seen by two characters. It will focus mainly on that relationship as well as the social impact upon the people of Diablo II in Sanctuary. This is just a prologue. Chapters will cover single chapters within the acts. (IE, Chapter 1 will be 'The Den of Evil' 2 will be "Sister's Bruial Ground" etc.) For now, read, enjoy, and leave a review if you are so inclined!

**My Opposite; My Exact**

She had stopped counting the days about a couple of weeks prior to her sitting up late, again, staring at the bonfire in the center of the Rogue's makeshift encampment. The scent of smoke and embers were accompanied again by the faint smell of blood and death that the eastern winds bore to the camp. It was nothing that frightened her, but as the weeks had gone by, she had noticed this smell growing stronger and the number of Rogue scouts returning to camp became less and less. Unfortunately, to return to her home north, she first had to pass through the lands of the Monastery, which were as she was told unfit to travel to. She could take care of herself, she assured them, but they assured her right back that they could take care of whatever was ravaging their lands. _The Rogue are idiots_ she sighed in her head as the caravan leader, Warriv, began to nod off, back propped up against a wagon's wheel. They didn't know who or what she was, and though part of her wanted to retain her anonymity, most was rearing to head out into the bramble wilderness and fix the problem herself. The only thing holding her back was the news she had eavesdropped on earlier in her stay. It was not hard to miss Kashya, and in one of the first very heated arguments with Akara, the fate of Tristram was told. Tristram, where the final battle was supposed to have ended. Tristram, where the demons were finally put to rest along with one of the greatest evils of all.

It seems they were all wrong.

Stuck in the God-forsaken camp certainly was not helping much, however. She yawned widely, hidden by a hand with graceful fingers. She leaned back against her chest of belongings and pulled some of her fur blankets about her closer. It certainly was getting colder as of late. Home seemed a thousand miles away, but on the same token, she was not sure that home was the best idea either. Someone stepping in front of her tent broke her from her concentration. Her eyes narrowed in the amber light being thrown from the fire, she studied the newcomer. He was male, young at that, and a little too tall for his weight. It was as if he had been stretched through the torso, the look of boys as they trek through the awkward phases toward becoming men. He was not a boy, however, just awkward. She guessed that he must have stood at least six or seven inches above her, but from her vantage she could have been exaggerating. His face was fair, at least the half that she could see. He had a strong jaw and a fine nose, though it looked like it may have been broken at one time or another. He wore a scowl but his eyes reflected concern, great worry, and the flames of the fire. He was covered in furs from head to foot, though as she looked closer she assumed they were all blessed by how they were carefully adorned with painted symbols, beads, and bones. An over-large raven was perched upon his left shoulder, visibly ruffled, and it called a warning as its eyes met hers. The young man's vision snapped to hers, as she lay half-concealed in the darkness of her tent. His eyes, green eyes, looked at her with contemplation, and he frowned as he looked upon the pelt that she had wrapped about her from. _Definitely a druid._ She thought bitterly as he looked at her with accusatory eyes. He pulled the hood from his head to reveal dark auburn hair, and quite a length of it, that was tied back at the nape of his neck. She shifted as he still looked down upon her; her fingers itched toward the dagger, safe in its sheath strapped around her thigh.

"Do you have something to say, or are you simply going to stare at me? I would like to get some sleep at some point tonight, and I cannot vary well do it with eyes upon me." She spat. The look on his face simply changed to that of marginal amusement before turning his back on her and moving toward the left side of Warriv's wagon. Though he was almost out of her view, she saw and heard a tent being put up before he settled his tall, lanky form within. The raven perched itself on one of the stakes and went to sleep. She assumed that its master had also, but as she shut her eyes, rest did not come easy. She felt him still awake and observing her somehow, and to an assassin, being watched is something that does not occur often. She finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, knowing that a set of green eyes fifteen feet away were still reflecting the flames of the bonfire, and perhaps the silhouette of her tent.

The next morning she awoke with a start as she heard yelling coming from the entrance to the encampment. She tossed the pelts aside with ease, and though groggy, she leaped up with her dagger at the ready, unsure of what she may meet. There was no immediate threat to the encampment, but two Rogues were hurrying into camp with a third held between them. She was bleeding profusely from a couple of head wounds and several superficial cuts and grazes to the rest of her body. The folk of the camp gathered curiously around Akara's tent as she began to tend to the poor girls wounds. Kashya was visibly irritated.

"Report!" She barked at the two untouched scouts.

"The demons, they are upon us!" One replied nervously.

"What?" Kashya asked in disbelief.

"They have burrowed out a stronghold underground, seemingly overnight! They are nary more than a mile outside of camp, and slowly they have been spreading closer." One of the scouts clarified.

"What kind of beasts are we speaking of here? Like the others?"

"No, not as terrible yet." One replied.

"But still! Spike fiends, zombies, fallens! All roaming the land right outside of here! Who knows what else is below in that burrow!" The other rogue cried angrily.

"Silence!" Akara's sudden words brought a hush to the murmur that was rippling to what was left of her people, "Obviously, something must be done. For now, I will tend to this one. Kashya, I want you to strengthen the defense outside of our encampment. There are travelers and those with great strength among us as I speak. I want any of those who feel that they are strong enough to vanquish this evil to find me tonight, here. Surely, someone here can undertake the horrors outside of our stronghold. Now be gone, and Heaven help us, someone will be strong enough to aid us." The tired folk slowly wandered away from Akara, allowing her words to sink in to their minds.

"Dierdre." An arm clasped around her hand. She jumped and turned to her side to see Warriv looking at her dagger nervously.

"Do not do that!" She snapped, annoyed, "Do you understand what I can do with this little thing?"

"I am sorry, forgive me," the older man looked amused, "I merely wished to speak with you." Dierdre sighed and put her dagger back into its sheath. She felt eyes upon her once more, and raised her gaze to meet that of the stranger's from the night before. An unpleasant shiver shot down her back.

"Surely," she tore her gaze from the young man and back to Warriv, "let us speak by the fire." They retreated into the heart of the camp, she knowing that the young druid was following as well. He sat on the seat of one of his wagons while she patted one of the oxen on the top of its head, the beast penned safely. She leaned her hip against the fence and looked up at Warriv, aware that the newcomer was settling back down in front of his tent, the raven looking at her with a cocked head.

"This certainly changes things." Warriv began, sounding grim.

"Were you not expecting it?"

"Well, yes, I was, but I now am beginning to share your fear that the Rogue are not enough to battle this."

"So, what are you saying?"

"Are you going to visit Akara tonight?"

"Do you mean am I going to offer myself up to the Rogue tonight?"

"Favors may not be in your nature, Dierdre, but you've been growing quite restless in this camp," he chuckled, "and do not think that I am overstepping my bounds, mi'lady, because although you have only been here a short time, your nature is quite obvious to any who would take two seconds to speak with you. Gheed is downright frightened of you, in fact."

"As he should be, weasel." She smirked as Warriv began to laugh. The green-eyed stranger was eavesdropping, and she was tempted to shout something foul in his direction, but for some reason unbeknownst to herself, she decided to let him listen.

"But Dierdre, will you? Will you fight for the Rouge? As you have told me on more than one occasion, you are prepared to."

"Truth be told, Warriv, I am quite tempted," she sighed, looking over at the gentle beasts penned next to her, "I'm ready to move on from here anyway."

"Then blessed be you," he sighed, looking tired, "something needs to go well for a change, and perhaps you will be able to go home finally."

"Something tells me that if I get involved, I may never see home again." Her smile was something that concerned Warriv.

"Dierdre…" his voice trailed off in a fatherly tone.

"Remember what any preacher would say," she smiled at him, "'Death is only the beginning', and if God has a path set out for everyone, I will be fulfilling it. Besides, we all just try to delay the inevitable, though some tend to hasten it." She grinned in a coy way and he laughed knowingly. Warriv had been one in camp that truly tried to make Dierdre feel welcome from the day she stepped into it. She felt no harm in telling him who, and what, she was. He, in turn, regarded her with much respect.

"Then God shall be proud of His children this day."

"Hopefully."

"So, you'll be helping?"

"I think I may, perhaps after I talk Charsi into mending my armor and blades."

"You know she will, such a kind girl she is."

"Will you go East again, Warriv, if this all passes?"

"There would be no need for me to stay, and the wagons are laden for trade," He smiled, "Besides, the Rogue will need resources from the East in order to rebuild here, if we do not get wiped off the face of this world first."

"I doubt we will, Warriv, now, off to Charsi." Dierdre smiled at her friend before returning to her small tent. She opened her chest and removed some studded leather, a belt, heavy boots, and a helm, all nicked and rather worse for wear. She pulled a bundle from the bottom and carefully unwrapped it to reveal two wrist blades, shining and sharp, but also nicked and tarnished. She had not used any of her gear since the day she arrived in the Rogue Encampment. She pulled a bag of gold from the bottom as well and hefted her gear over her shoulder, ready to approach the blacksmith. She looked back for a moment and saw the green-eyed stranger whose gaze was riveted to the wrist blades that she held so lovingly in her right hand. For a moment she thought fear was upon his eyes, but at the same time there was a great disgust. She swallowed her angry comment and turned on her heel, marching deliberately to Charsi's forge.

Charsi worked fast with brilliant skill. Although she lacked her magical smithing hammer, Dierdre's equipment had never looked so good. As she donned the armor and tied her wrist blades at her side, there was not a set of eyes in the encampment that could mistake what she was. It was probably more than a little unsettling to realize that an assassin had been living in the encampment undetected for so long. Her pale skin showed beneath the dark sepia tone of the leather. A metal hairpin, one of the sole remembrances from home, held her long black brown hair securely and out of harm's way. She turned her honey-brown eyes to Akara's tent, noticing the setting sun. It was now or never, that she knew, and with purpose she strode to the Healer's tent.

As she approached, she was surprised to see the lanky druid sitting quietly, eyes closed, in front of Akara's tent. She blinked quickly before frowning and standing nearby. He opened his eyes slowly and eyed her. Before any words could be exchanged, Akara emerged from her tent. Her face drooped slightly at the turnout of two, but she sighed hopefully and looked at them both.

"I am glad to see that the kindness of strangers falls upon the Sisterhood, but I am also sad to see that there are so few." She nodded as if steeling herself, "Your name?" She asked as she looked at the young man. He stood swiftly, the raven beating its wings for balance.

"Kellen Adair, mi'lady." His voice proved his age, deep yet airy. He seemed confident, "I am a Druid of the Northwestern realms."

"That much is obvious, friend." Akara smiled, "Do you have any experience?"

"Pardon?"

"In the fight, do you have experience in the fight?"

"Well, no, none of yet, but I am trained and prepared." He answered honestly. Dierdre held back a snort. He was nothing but a pup, as druids go.

"Training is fine, but experience is what keeps one alive," Akara seemed to have read her mind, "and what of you?" She turned her attention on Dierdre.

"Dierdre Cam, Assassin of the Northeastern Guild."

"You have been in our camp for quite some time, I am guessing you cannot reach your homeland?"

"No, the way is through the Monastery."

"Are you experienced?"

"Yes, mi'lady."

"What have you done?"

"Too much, mi'lady." She answered truthfully. Akara sized her up.

"You are young, I am sure young enough to have not learned everything."

"Not by a long shot, but I know how to fight, and I have."

"Then perhaps you can train this one." She said, referring to Kellen. The prospect annoyed her before even truly sinking in. Playing nanny to an inexperienced Druid with a superiority complex? How fun.

"I will learn quickly." He spoke up suddenly, looking at Dierdre with a quiet thirst for knowledge. It took her back, so much so that all she could do in response was nod.

"Tomorrow I wish for you to set out into the Blood Moor and vanquish the evil that is approaching our encampment. Our services, as usual, will be at your disposal. Some of the land has changed, so our maps may not be as reliable, I suggest you change them as you go. For now, go and sleep knowing that the Rogue is ever grateful for your help."

So she slept, but yet again, sleep was restless. She awoke some time after midnight and sat up, pulling the pelts off of her and stepping out of her tent, adjusting the tunic she wore. Unabashed of her bare legs, she lifted a water skin from the side of her tent and took a long drink. The ruffling of feathers woke her up further. She looked over to Kellen's tent to see him rip his eyes away from her. The raven simply smoothed its feathers and fell back to sleep. The druid was getting on her nerves, but she would have to put up with him.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" She asked, "Tomorrow is going to be hard, downright dangerous for you."

"And why aren't you?" He asked, looking into the fire.

"I think it is because of some green-eyed druid who keeps staring at my tent while I try to." The young man gained slight color for a moment, but did not move his eyes from the flames.

"I am nervous to be around you."

"Finally, some honest answers," she smirked, "I don't blame you."

"Aren't you insulted?" He looked up at her.

"Why should I be?" She took another large drink, "It is not like my people should be trusted, anyway."

"You are… honest."

"Of course I am. Were you expecting someone completely devoid of morals?"

"To my people, Assassins are."

"Well, perhaps you should not listen to everything they tell you."

"'Tis all I know."

"Then you have obviously not stepped out of your lands before, have you?" Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"No." His reply came softly after a moment.

"Well, then you're just going to have to trust me. I wont let you die."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"Who else is going to protect you?" She snapped. He looked at his hands before bravely back at her.

"I will protect myself."

"Eventually. For now, you need to sleep." He looked at her skeptically, "Okay fine, tell me this pup, what reason would I have for killing you? Your blessed firs? Your loud-mouthed crow? Your tent which is not in much better shape than my own? I do not kill for nothing, Druid. Give me more credit than what your elders have planted in your head."

"Do…" he took a breath of courage, "do not be angry with me, please."

"I am not, but you have to understand what your words say to me."

"I will watch my tongue."

"I'm sure you will, but I could care less if you treat me like dirt," she sighed, "right now, you and I both need sleep. As soon as you do, maybe I can finally get some rest." She sighed and turned her back on him sharply and re-entered her small tent. She was rewarded a moment later by hearing him shuffle into his own and settle down. For the first time since he came to camp, Dierdre finally got a good night's sleep.

They awoke the next day before dawn broke. Warriv rose with them, and while they dressed and geared up, he made them breakfast which they ate gratefully. Dierdre pulled her hair back and fastened it, the shorter locks falling arrantly in her face. Her armor restored and her wrist blades gleaming, she finally felt the thrill of the hunt flow through her again. Her charge, however, looked to be a little less confident. Kellen, although lean, was quite a bit stronger than she. Charsi outfitted him in ring mail and gave him a large shield and a scimitar to wield. He looked a little lost as he stared at his feet. She smacked him on the arm with the blunt of her blade and nodded ahead; the Rogues were awaiting them in order to send them off.

Akara gave them the most recent maps that she could offer, and Kashya did her best to brief them on the weaknesses of the possible creatures they would be facing. And finally, before reality could truly sink in, they were crossing the bridge into the Blood Moor, wondering what truly awaited them on the other side, with distinctly different attitudes toward their fate.


	2. Act 1: The Den of Evil

**Disclaimer:** All things Diablo belong to Blizzard Entertainment. If you try to sue me, you'll be sadly disappointed at the 33 cents and pocket lint that you will collect. (I'm sure that won't cover your lawyer's fees.)

**Author's Notes:** Well, well, well… finally doing a little work on this story. I'm sorry to say that I've been very busy with stuff in real life. I am still going to school, but on top of that I have just gotten a new job, so I've been working for the past two weeks at two jobs. That plus school meant no free time for me. So this has been sitting half-finished for a very long stretch of time. Not to mention how long the bloody chapter is to begin with. I finally took the chance to re-read it the other night and I caught my second wind and slowly began to complete it over the next couple of days.

So here we are getting into the storyline of D2, and as I mentioned previously each chapter will be a walkthrough of sorts of each quest. I am thinking of doing smaller preface chapters before each "act" begins, something like my prologue. I'm not quite sure on that yet though. I do, however, need an opinion from readers really quick. If you wouldn't mind reading through this and leaving a comment on whether or not this story should be marked as mature or not? I know that eventually I will have to move it up as the chapters progress and there is more colorful description/language, but does the gore in this deserve a mature rating? I can't really decide myself.

Thank you ahead of time, and enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Den of Evil**

Dierdre led the way, walking slowly onto the Moor. She glanced at Kellen over her shoulder; he was visibly nervous. An unusual fog was hugging the ground, meandering over the low foliage, grasses, and boulders. She had not noticed the fog when she first passed through the land. The air was cold, but it lay thick and humid, chilling any flesh bare to the elements. She sighed and clicked her blades together before turning to face him.

"So, my good Druid," she arched an eyebrow at him, "what have you been trained in?"

"Summoning spirits, and hand to hand combat mostly."

"Mostly?"

"There is," he paused before continuing with an uncertain tone, "more that I have learned, but it is all unstable as of yet." Dierdre knew it was better not to pry, as she was not familiar with the exact skills and abilities that the Druids were taught. She shrugged.

"Well, get to summoning your pets, then, we will most likely be needing them." He looked at her, seemingly offended by her wording. He remained quiet, and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. A moment later he raised his arms suddenly, and the form of a great black raven, even larger than the pet on his shoulder, materialized from a swirling mass of feathers. It flew about him as he repeated the process four more times. Dierdre was shocked beyond words, having never seen such phenomenon before.

"What do they do?" She could not help but ask.

"They render my enemies blind." Before she could retort, she noticed his eyes fall shut again, and a deeper breath taken. At his feet, with a jut of his arms, formed a spectral wolf, white and beautiful, that stared up at its master obediently. Dierdre blinked, this was certainly unusual. Her companion's small menagerie was quite a sight to behold.

"So, what do you do, mi'lady?" He asked, smirking slightly at the fact that her jaw was still slightly slack. She shook her head and smiled at him.

"How fast can you run?"

"Fast enough, I believe."

"Are you so sure?" She grinned, pushing her right hand out, palm open and blade pointing at the sky. A pulse of wind throbbed forth, disturbing the ravens slightly. This same wind was now kicking up at her heels. She ran behind him with such quick speed that he barely had time to turn toward her before she again was at her original spot. He stared at her, bewildered.

"How did you…?"

"A skill of speed, truly my people's greatest asset."

"What of your other 'talents'?"

"You will have to wait for the battle to see those, pup." She grinned, but quickly put away any nonsense, "I suggest we get moving, however, I do not think staying out here past nightfall would bode well for us in this fog. We should probably move along the perimeter, eliminate everything above ground before going against our true quarry. It will help to warm you up." He nodded slightly. She turned and began to walk toward the western side of the Moor, the Druid having to jog to keep up with her added speed. She kept glancing over her shoulder, looking nervously at the birds that swooped about their heads and the magnificent, snow-white wolf that loped easily alongside Kellen. This was something that she was not used to, but she was doing well not to offend him with her uncertainty.

She looked forward once more and her eyes narrowed immediately upon a group of three foul beasts. Spike Fiends were built low to the ground, a misshapen excuse for a porcupine, their teeth grew jagged over the sides of their jaws and upon their backs and tails grew great long spikes. The smaller spikes upon the tail could be launched from their scaly, sickly green colored skin toward whatever it deemed threatening, and at that juncture, Kellen and Dierdre were definite threats. The closest beast turned and bristled, tossing a long spike toward the two. Dierdre dodged the projectile simply, but her sudden movement caught Kellen off guard, and if he had been a fraction slower the spine would have been embedded in his leg. Dierdre, with a smile that was too jovial for one in battle, ran straight to the beast, leaned down, and sent one of her blades through the top of its skull. The beast's two companions sent a volley of their own at the assassin, one reaching its mark in her right arm, but it did not dig too far past the armor. She bit back a hiss of pain nonetheless and turned to attack the offending beast. She double-slashed the beast across its neck and deep into its right leg, one more across the back for good measure, before it fell. The final beast died in similar fashion. Dierdre stood up straight once more, turning back toward Kellen, but focused on her right arm, eyes annoyed at the spine that was sticking out of her bicep. She carefully pinched it between two fingers of her gloved left hand and yanked it out sharply. Some blood flowed, but not much. She looked up at Kellen, clearly annoyed.

"Where were you?" She asked, a little gruffer than she had meant to.

"I… I've never seen creatures like that before."

"Still, why did you not attack?"

"I do not know what I should be attacking and what I should not," his brow furrowed at her, "I would much rather preserve the life of the non-threatening."

"I can assure you that nothing out in this wilderness is non-threatening," she retorted, but quickly added, "at least now, anyway. But why did your birds not aid me? Your wolf?"

"They will only attack if I wish them to."

"Why?"

"They are extensions of my being."

"So they're… you, essentially?" Dierdre was having a hard time understanding him, but she did her best not to show it.

"Essentially, just the more, primal sides."

"Uh huh…" she eyed him, "well, can you tell your primal self that I could use some help on the battlefield?" She snorted and turned on her heel, now traveling along the fences and natural barriers of the Moor. She heard him jog after. She really was trying to be patient, but being around someone who was so clearly unlike her was getting under her skin, along with her enemies spines. It wasn't long until they stumbled along a group of four more Spike Fiends, but Dierdre stopped and simply let her hands fall to her sides. The beasts took notice of them quickly, and began to advance upon Dierdre, who was still in the front. They started coming far too close; 30 feet, 20 feet… ten…

"Dierdre! What are you just standing there for?"

"You're the one in training, pup," she snapped, back turned on him and facing the beasts that were approaching with intent to inflict some serious damage. Dierdre could have fallen over laughing at the sound she heard him make, something close to a growl, but felt more proud when the white wolf went streaking past her left side and the ravens flew over her head. Kellen followed after, around her right. She watched earnestly as the ravens swooped down upon the beasts, digging their coal-black beaks and talons deep into the creatures' eyes, destroying their sight. The beasts writhed in pain, vocalizing loudly and whipping their tails about dangerously. The wolf reached the closest beast and leaped forward, catching its bleeding head in its jaws. Diedre watched as the wolf's eyes dilated as its jaw bit down, crushing the skull before it ripped its head to the side, snapping the Spike Fiend's neck. The wolf leaped off of the creature and eagerly attacked the next. Kellen was not fairing too badly either; he slashed the scimitar across one of the creature's backs, and then crudely sent the blade through the top of its neck, severing the spine. The small band of creatures was quickly disposed of. The ravens circled around their heads easily again, and the wolf returned to Kellen's side while licking blood from its muzzle. Kellen was looking at the blood staining his blade with uncertainty. Dierdre smirked, lifted her hands, and began to clap softly.

"Good show." His eyes narrowed at her, annoyed.

"Do not treat me as your personal entertainment." Dierdre blinked, she had clearly crossed a line that she didn't even know was there. She dropped her hands to her sides and approached him slowly, pulling out an old rag from her satchel. She lifted his blade, which he was still holding with a white-knuckled grip, and ran the rag over it, removing the dark, unnatural blood.

"You'll have to forgive me," she smiled ruefully at him, "I keep forgetting that I am not traveling with my usual company."

"Certainly not."

"I was merely impressed." She shrugged. His gaze softened a bit.

"Thank you." He said slowly. Dierdre, not being good with civilized camaraderie, simply smiled back before walking around him and the wolf at her fast pace, further into the Moor.

"There's more where that came from." She laughed as she once again heard him jogging behind her. They traveled for a few minutes more; the fog was still lying thick upon the ground, moving lethargically. In the unclear distance, something made an audible groan. Kellen stopped dead and Dierdre also halted, turning to look at him.

"What was that?"

"Not sure."

"Do we continue?" He asked sheepishly.

"Why not?"

"Well, if we don't know what is ahead…"

"We will never know if we aren't brave enough to look, now will we?" She grinned, "A little fog isn't going to deter you, is it, pup?" Kellen sighed in an exasperated way, but his gaze drifted to movement over Dierdre's shoulder. His eyes went wide at what he saw approaching from the milky haze. It was human, or at least the remnants of a human, stalking slowly toward his companion. The skin hung from atrophied muscles and tendons, bones showing beneath. It lacked any sort of solid torso; only its spine was keeping it upright. Its eyes were blind, but something told Kellen that whatever it was didn't rely on sight. Dried blood stained the tattered remains of clothing that clung to it. He felt frozen, and in that, so were his animal companions. The wolf slunk behind him, ears back, and whimpered. Dierdre raised an eyebrow at him.

"And what is the matter with you?" As she was finishing her question, the silent abomination lifted a hand that was mostly bone and with more quickness than it had shown before, raked it down against her back. Dierdre shut her eyes and let forth a yelp of pain while stumbling forward from the shock. She turned with blinding speed and lodged one of her wrist blades into the creature's chest, while the other beheaded it just as quickly. The body fell with a great thud, leaving Dierdre's blades covered with old, rotting blood. She turned on her heel, now hearing more groans coming from ahead of them.

"Snap out of it, you fool!" She snarled at Kellen, "One moment you are doing masterfully, and the next you act like a frightened child! They are zombies, Kellen, and they want nothing more than to make a meal out of us."

"But, so, they are human?"

"Were, Kellen, they were human," she growled at him, "now they are worth nothing more than the decaying flesh they still drag around. Kill them, Kellen!" And with that, four more of the first zombie's companions came forth from the fog, all of various states of dress and gender.

"It goes against what I was taught."

"No it does not!" Dierdre screamed at him before turning quickly to engage the closest, cutting rotting limbs from the walking corpse, "You were taught to preserve life, right?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"But these are not the living! They are the very antithesis! They are the undead, creatures without souls which only exist to cause havoc and serve as slaves to the puppetmasters of Hell!" She was still yelling at him when her victim fell, "There is no mercy from your enemies in battle, no matter if they once had a soul or not. They mean to kill you, Druid! Indiscriminately, brutally, and then they will feed upon your fallen flesh! Kill or be killed, pup, it is your decision!" As she finished her last angry cry, another hand raked across the exposed flesh of her neck. She cried out in pain and anger as four deep scratches bloomed red across her pale flesh. She sent her elbow back into the head of the offending undead, sending it stumbling backward. The sight of her blood flowing down her neck disturbed Kellen, but what disturbed him more was what the zombie did next. It righted itself, balancing, and raised the hand that had scratched Dierdre to its mouth, and then used a half-rotted tongue to clean her blood from the dead flesh and bone of its fingers. He fought back the urge to be sick as a greater surge of anger struck him. Before even he could react, the ravens and his wolf descended upon the remaining three zombies, and he followed shortly to kill the one that had harmed his companion. Dierdre nodded at his action and also engaged one of the beasts, and the three were easily disposed of. The pair stood over the dismembered remains of the corrupted corpses, eyeing one another carefully as their breathing returned to normal.

"Do you see what I mean now, Kellen?" Dierdre asked slowly, using her blades to point accusingly at the corpse at her feet and then to the marks on her neck, "There is no humanity left in what we are fighting. If there was, do you think they would desire to lap up our spilt blood? The biggest problem you will have is learning that you are now alone on the battlefield. There is no mercy here, no games, just brutal, painful death awaiting anyone who cannot stand up and fight not only to save those people in that camp, but themselves as well."

"I want to preserve life."

"Well, you cannot very well do that if you are dead, can you?"

"Nay, but…" His eyes fell. Dierdre could tell he was weary, that this was something he had never experienced. Half of her felt pity and wished to take him back to camp, but she steeled her resolve. He would never learn unless he threw himself headlong into it.

"You're tired, I can see it." She stated simply, "You have a lot of potential Kellen, but you are holding yourself back. Why are you afraid? What do you have to lose?" Kellen was quiet. Dierdre honestly thought that maybe he would find some compelling reason; family, friends, something deeply rooted into his life that he could take a hold of and fight for, but she was disappointed at the blank look in his eyes.

"Nothing." Staring into her companion's dead eyes left Dierdre feel unsatisfied. With that attitude, he could shirk the fear of the fight, but something was not right.

"Surely there is something," she urged, "even if it is something as grand as the desire to save this world, save your people, perhaps?"

"Yes, I could do that," his ridged form became slightly more slack, human, "but I am unsure." Dierdre's curiosity was somewhat legendary in her guild, and in this case all of the flags were being raised in indication that Kellen was not being forthcoming. However, she also knew that they had a job to do, and idle chitchat about history was not going to help at the moment.

"I know that there are things that you have not told me," she smiled pleasantly, "and I also know that you may not wish to tell me anything right now. What I do hope is that we can go out now, complete our task, and perhaps spend this evening around the bonfire with some strong liquor and have an actual conversation. Can we do that, Kellen?" He couldn't help but smile at the small fact that she had entreated him by name kindly for the first time.

"Yes, that would be nice."

"I thought so too," she turned and started walking forward again, tossing a gaze over her shoulder and waiting for a moment, "and the faster we get to exterminating this evil, the closer that fire is. Shall we?" After that moment, not much frightened the pair as they continued to trace the fences and barriers of the Moor, finally stopping back in front of where they began. With silent agreement, they struck out on the path that lead right up the center of Moor. Footprints became more prominent as the walked, and soon an empty cabin appeared in their view. Dierdre walked right up onto the porch and pressed her ear to the door. Though it was mostly silent, she heard a slight shuffle inside. She beckoned Kellen closer and pointed to the wolf while she placed her hands on the handle. Whipping the door open, Kellen's wolf bounded inside, and the rough cries of surprise and fear that resulted were clearly inhuman. Dierdre swung herself inside to see the wolf over the body of a short, red demon, its four companions drawing closer to it. Kellen followed her swiftly, engaging the nearest beast. The creatures were about half as tall as a normal human, with crimson skin pulled tight over wiry, disfigured frames. Black horns swept back from the forehead, inch-long teeth protruded from their jaws, and their sickly yellow eyes swept the room, looking for the next attack half-heartedly. They would always die in a spray of hot, thick blood, and a cry of pain that was unknown to any natural creature.

"Fallens, disgusting things." Diedre spat before looking through the cabin for any sign of human life. Kellen followed her as she ransacked the room for anything of interest, "Ha, these will come in handy." She grinned as she opened a small chest in the corner of the room. She handed Kellen several vials with a viscous, red fluid inside.

"What are these?"

"Healing potions, of course." She grinned, taking a couple for herself and placing them in a pouch on her belt.

"Do you think we should take them?"

"Well, whoever was here isn't anymore, I'm sure they would understand if they had been charged with the task that we were." She smiled, "Besides, if we ever do find the owner of this place, we can always pay them back."

"How?"

"There's a lot of treasure out there for those who are willing to find it."

"You're telling me that you are treasure-hunting?"

"No, but if I stumble across some, you can rest assured I am going to be keeping it." Kellen shook his head at Dierdre as they left the small cottage to continue along the eastern path. It was not much longer until they found a large uprising in the earth with a good sized opening on one side. Muddy footprints were all over the entrance, and symbols seemingly written in blood dotted the rocks and ground nearby.

"Think we've found our target?" Kellen asked simply.

"I'd say so," she sighed, "ready?"

"As I will ever be." Kellen shook his head and then surprised Dierdre by heading in first, ravens and wolf following quickly. She shrugged and hunched over, entering the cave as well.

The smell was the first thing to hit; unique and ghastly, with an overlay of damp mildew and sewage. Dierdre had certainly had worse in her life, but yet again her sympathy went out to her companion. He was the sort who had lived among trees all his life, and to be submerged in such desolation was probably rather frightening. Water seeped down the walls and dripped from stalactites above. Instead of being the usual, rather lovely deposits of white minerals, these stalactites were stained green and gray, some almost black in color.

"Charming."

"Disgusting is more like it," Kellen looked grave, and then swallowed hard as if holding his breakfast down, "now lets get this over with."

"My sentiments are with you." She grinned, and then watched as the crows zigzagged quickly off into the poorly lit cave. They had apparently found something interesting. The wolf followed soon after and a scuffle could be heard. Pulled by his familiars, Kellen felt compelled to follow and protect them, and he sprinted after. Dierdre, with her added speed, simply ambled along, meeting up with them quickly. More Fallens, but this time they were an organized little bunch. She was in time to see one swing a spiked club over its head and soundly smack one of the ravens, which then sunk to the ground and exploded in a mass of spectral feathers. Kellen visibly jerked, his eyes going wide in a strange way. At least it was not his true familiar raven, which was distinguishable only in this light by the slight violet undertone to its feathers. She heard him curse under his breath as she joined the fight, and they swiftly killed the rest of the demons without further incident. Kellen closed his eyes once again and summoned another raven, which in the darkness of the cave was an even more eerie experience to see the white light and cyclone of feathers appear out of nothing. Before the band could really react and move on, a strange noise sounded from behind them, and suddenly one of the dead Fallens stood up once more and began to attack. One-by-one, the others were revived as well, their spilled blood seeping back into their veins before standing ready to fight.

"What's going on!" Kellen's cry was more of a statement than a question as they hacked down the beasts for the second time.

"Shaman." Dierdre replied, out of breath before walking further into the black of the cave before stumbling upon the beast itself. If the Fallens themselves were ugly, then this beast was shaman from the sheer magnitude of its hellish deformity. It towered over Diedre, with the same kind of wiry, skeletal frame and fiery-colored flesh. It wore a tattered beige tunic with the devil's heraldry scrawled across the front in black sludge. In it's right hand it hefted a gnarled staff with two very large fangs attached at the top, and in his left he wielded a curved dirk which although dirty looked quite deadly. The shaman grinned fiercely at her with its malformed jaws and raised its left arm to slash her down the front, but she was just a bit quicker. She smirked back and jutted her right arm up violently, sinking her wrist blade deep up into the shaman's upper torso. It made an obscene growl before a ball of fire appeared between the two great fangs on his staff. Diedre gasped as the creature pointed the staff down and the ball of fire grew and launched into her chest. She stumbled back with a small cry of pain, but saw, to her great relief, Kellen's ravens descend upon the shaman and blind it, quickly followed by their master who struck the demon down. He looked over at her, concern in his features,

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, fine," she sighed, checking her torso, "just a couple of singes, nothing too terrible." She didn't know how that blast didn't cause more damage, but only a few spaces where her flesh showed through her armor were burned, but a couple of patches were bloody. She moved and winced slightly, but it was tolerable. She would most definitely have to be more careful, that and see Akara when they returned to camp.

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly, don't worry about me."

"So that thing summons the small ones back from death?"

"Unfortunately."

"How many do you think are down here?" He asked, to which she shrugged in response. She simply pressed forward, toward a prick of light further down in the cave from a crude torch. The two went on in silence, picking their way from torch to torch, coming across more and more mobs of spike fiends, fallens, shamans, and zombies, all of which they destroyed. When one fork of the cave ended they retraced and followed another, cleansing as they went. Turning another corner, Dierdre looked up in shock at a beast at least ten feet high and five feet broad, covered with course gray hair, directly in her view. It gave a roar like an angry bull and lifted its great arms in the air before violently slamming them down toward her. She dodged, but not fast enough, and the beast's fists connected with her side, crushing her body to the ground. Kellen gave a cry of surprise, but his ravens attacked the behemoth's eyes and his wolf launched itself onto its right arm. Dierdre moved slowly, crawling over to the other side of the passage, and Kellen threw himself into the fight, mercilessly slashing at the beast's hulking frame. It took a while, but the combined force of Kellen and his companions finally felled it, as it gave a last angry cry that shook the underground passage. Breathing hard, he hurried to Diedre, who was lying on her back nearby, staring at the ceiling.

"Diedre, are you all right?" He asked, panicked.

"You seem to be asking me that a lot today." She smirked, but then coughed and gasped for air. Kellen lifted her torso and propped her against his frame, allowing her to breathe easier.

"Well, I can't help it seeing as that… thing just crushed your side."

"It did not, just knocked the wind out of me," she sighed before looking up at him, "though you are incredibly lucky today, how come I am the only one being sniped by fiends, scratched by zombies, burnt by shamans, and smacked by yetis?"

"I'm not sure," he couldn't help but chuckle slightly, "perhaps because you throw yourself headlong into this?"

"Fair enough." She laughed back before gingerly leaning forward. She carefully stood, wobbling slightly, and took in a deep breath. She pressed into her ribs gently with her right hand and winced, "Nothing broken, but it all hurts. I guess I am pretty lucky today, too."

"Well, will you let me take the lead, then?"

"I guess so, something tells me we are nearing the end."

"Good, the sooner the better," he grinned, "so, are you ready?"

"I believe so." He needed no more answer than that, by the way that Diedre seemed to bounce back from things, he assumed that she was going to do quite well. What he didn't know was that Diedre truly was fazed by the yeti's fists, and her mind was unclear with dizziness. The tunnel that lead further in did not fork again, it became wider at junctures, narrow at others, always filled with small mobs of demons and undead. They even ran across two more yetis, but the creatures did not last long from the combined efforts of Kellen and Diedre. They slowed as the passage slimmed once more; an eerie wash of light on a sudden right bend was disconcerting. It was not sunlight, but the room beyond must have been lit with many more torches than the previous hallways were. The wolf's tail bristled and it pulled its lips back, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

"What is it?" Diedre asked.

"Nothing welcoming, that is for sure." Kellen was just as much on edge. He took a moment to steel himself before whipping around the corner. Diedre followed on his heels, but the sight they met made even she want to turn back. It was the obvious end to the cave system, and the same kind of crude torches were stuck everywhere that a sizable nook or cranny could hold them. To the companions' horror, some twenty rogues were on display, slain. Each of their bodies had been mutilated, before or after their death was unknown, hung from the stalactites from straps of leather and crude ropes by their necks. A couple more unfortunate women had been impaled on large, jagged stalagmites near the entrance; their blood turning the dull gray spires an unsavory rust color. The smell was the worst above all, as a couple of the bodies looked to have been there for weeks. Waiting for them, across the room, was what brought the threat to the Rogue's feet; ten zombies were slowly getting to their feet, each armed with worse-for-wear clubs and damaged bucklers. An eleventh, who sat upon a makeshift bench toward the back, also rose. The remains of clothing that it wore indicated that it was once nobility, and there was a greenish undertone to its rotting flesh. A broken circlet sat tilted on its head as it looked at Kellen and Diedre. This creature, it seemed, still had its sight. Though it lacked a lower jaw, somehow it still managed to speak.

"Welcome fools," the disembodied voice was the raspy, dark tones of a middle-aged man, though it seemed ethereal and came from all directions at once, "to the lair of CorpseFire. I welcome you to my family." If a creature without a mouth could grin, then this creature was the master of doing so as he watched his minions march forth with unthinkable speed to attack Kellen and Diedre. They made themselves ready, but what they did not expect was how these zombies seemed organized, unlike the rest of the brainless undead that they had previously fought. When one was blocked another would strike, and they were actually doing a decent job of fending off Kellen's ravens. In the end, however, they could not stand up against the combined power of the assassin, druid, and his pets. When things finally were looking up, Diedre felt a strong shock enter her body from her lower back. Her body jerked involuntarily as pain exploded through her torso. Recovering, she turned to see the abomination that was CorpseFire directly behind her. He raised his bare hand to strike her once more, and it suddenly glowed a frosty blue. Diedre's eyes went wide, only having seen this phenomenon a few times before, and tried to duck, but CorpseFire was already in mid-swing. He connected with the side of her neck, and an explosion of frost rippled across her skin, down her torso, and across her face, and although it looked superficial from the outside, on the inside she could feel spikes of ice rip into soft tissue, veins, tendons, and muscles. With her previous injuries, it was too much to bear while standing. She feebly slashed CorpseFire down the chest as she fell to the floor, already beginning to thaw but in too much pain to rise again. CorpseFire stumbled back, bleeding black and rotting blood onto the floor from the crude gash. Kellen's wolf was finishing off the last of the zombies when Kellen turned to see Diedre on the floor and the injured zombie lord stumbling back. His eyes narrowed on the creature's back and he let forth an angry yell. Stunned again from the yell, CorpseFire seemed again to be disoriented as Kellen rushed forward and stabbed him through the back with his scimitar. Corpsefire pulled away and turned, raising his hands once more, an eerie red pulse flickering in both hands. He brought them down to Kellen's chest and face. Two small fiery explosions burnt the side of Kellen's face and the furs on his chest. CorpseFire, however, was considerably weak, and could not move away quickly enough from Kellen's retaliation. With as much strength as he could muster, Kellen swung his blade at the zombie lord's neck, severing the head from the rest of the body. The skull connected to the ground with a sickening crack while the body went ridged for a moment before swaying and falling into a heap of rotted flesh. Diedre stirred, the ice melted into a pool on the ground beneath her, but the lancets of ice that tore through her frame left holes in her skin that bled a fierce red. She felt something warm on the side of her neck and moved her gaze to see Kellen's wolf frantically licking at the entrance wound on her neck before Kellen himself came to her side and turned her to lay propped up against his chest. She heard him fiddling with something in her belt pouches.

"Drink this, now." She heard him plead before something cold pressed against her lower lip. She found the ability to open her mouth difficult, but she did, and a viscous, cold, bitter-tasting liquid flooded into her mouth. Before she could spit, though, he had clamped her jaw shut and tilted her head back, forcing her to swallow. She shut her eyes at the taste, but a moment later felt the very blood in her veins moving, the broken skin of her wounds move closer together and scab over. Full consciousness began to return, her thoughts clear once more, and she found her breathing was full again. Her ribs were no longer sore; there was no pain from the burns on her chest. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up to meet the green eyes of her companion staring intensely down at hers. His look of concern was almost comical to her, as she could not really place it, never having seen something quite like it before.

"I guess I wasn't fast enough." She smiled. His expression turned to one of dumbfounded disbelief.

"You nearly get yourself killed, and all you have to say is that you weren't fast enough," he stated, "you're insane."

"So they tell me." She sighed and pulled herself upright, getting to her feet as if she had not taken a wound all day. "So, can we go back? I think we've had enough to handle for one day."

"I agree, the sooner the better." He got to his feet as well and began to return his ravens to himself. Diedre took her time inspecting the room. She ended up finding several small bags of gold, a couple of good-looking broadswords, two chipped rubies, and a rather large amulet that she couldn't identify. She slipped all of the loot into a small bag at her side and slung the swords over her shoulder before looking around and sighing.

"We'll report the bodies to the Rogues, Akara will want to give them a proper burial, come on," she motioned as she headed out of the room, "I don't want to stay among this any longer." His sentiments seemed exact, because he followed quickly. They reached the entrance to the den quickly, and from there the road home was easygoing. The fresh air was like walking into the most welcoming inn on earth, the sunset sending a warm orange glow over the earth. At the camp entrance, the group of Rogue guards seemed thrilled that they had come back alive at all, sending them straight to Akara. The two stood outside of her tent patiently before she appeared, a smile lighting up her face.

"The Sisterhood rejoices in your return, tell me of your mission."

"We are successful in your task, My Lady." Diedre said.

"Tell me of the perils, what did you discover."

"A small army was holed up underneath the ground," Diedre explained, "so many that they had begun to invade the Moor, hence all of the injuries to your subjects. Spike fiends, zombies, fallens and their shaman, and yetis inhabited the land. Kellen and I disposed of all dark creatures upon the Moor, but I suggest to keep heightened vigilance around the Camp and the Moor so that more from the East do not come closer."

"Good, then it seems we are somewhat safer, at least in this last stronghold." Akara was greatly pleased by such success.

"There were, casualties." Kellen said softly, almost hesitantly. Akara's face fell slightly, but hardened to the familiar face that they had both met upon coming to the camp.

"How many?"

"Around twenty, give or take." He sighed before adding, "I am very sorry."

"'Tis the cost of our safety, I am afraid," Akara wrung her hands together before smiling sadly, "but perhaps your success here is the start of our salvation. Diedre, Kellen, will you continue to fight for us?" Kellen looked at Diedre, who met his gaze briefly before looking at Akara once more.

"We will." She stated simply.

"Then let us rejoice this night, all of us," she smiled again, "we have had so little to celebrate, and I believe this is something to be exceedingly happy for." She smiled and took Diedre's hands in hers in thanks before moving to Kellen. She softly placed a hand upon the burn on his chest and her other on his singed face. He felt a warm, gentle pulse along his skin, and as she pulled away, he touched his face to feel the repaired flesh left behind. He smiled and bowed his thanks before she left to report the good news to the rest of the Rogue and refugees.

* * *

That night, the bonfire was built twice its normal size as everyone in Camp gathered around it to celebrate the cleansing of the Moor. Food and spirits were passed around easily, and Warriv gave both Kellen and Diedre the last of the very best mead from Lut Gholien that he still had on his cart. 

"The honey came from bees that only fed upon lavender," he smiled, a little drunk himself, "tastes like a flower itself, or as close as it could ever get." Kellen smiled easily at him, silently agreeing. Diedre was just wishing that someone had something stronger than just mead, but the hard spirits had been gone long before she entered the camp, and she had taken her last swig from her flask the night before. The lavender mead was certainly calming, and she felt a warm haze cloud her mind. She let her eyes drift over to her companion, who was leaning against one of the wagon wheels on Warriv's cart, and was surprised when she saw him looking back strangely.

"You know, you need to stop staring at me as if I have suddenly sprouted wings." She grinned, "You've been looking at me like that ever since we've gotten back."

"I'm just a little overwhelmed."

"That's understandable."

"No, I mean," he sighed and looked down before looking back over at her, "it is just a little odd to see someone lying on the ground in a pool of blood, almost lifeless, suddenly spring back to life as if it never happened." She eyed him carefully.

"You really have not been out in the world, have you?" She asked, to which he nodded.

"All of the deaths I have witnessed were ones that a potion could not cure."

"That is the sad part of reality," she sighed, "and one that, in my profession, I am familiar with. Those kinds of deaths are ones that are meant to happen. The Lord has specific plans for everyone, and in some cases, no volume of potions or healing will ever bring someone back. The Lord isn't done with me yet, that is why that potion worked today. Someday though, it will not, and I will have to meet my maker like everyone else." She looked over at him again to see his expression had changed once more; his eyes were downcast and blazing, staring at his boots, his hands resting limply on his knees. Had she said something to upset him?

"The Lord… has some strange plans."

"Yes, but… everything is meant to happen for a reason."

"Even death?"

"Even death." She responded simply before finishing off the mead in her flagon and casting it aside. She pulled some of her firs around her body tightly, once her armor was off, the night air cut in through her tunic and leggings easier, although the mead was still delightfully warm in her stomach.

"I had a wife once." His sudden statement caught her off guard.

"What?"

"I had a wife, nary five years ago."

"But… you're so young, younger than I right?"

"Depends, how old are you?"

"Eh, twenty-five years."

"I am merely two years younger than you." She looked at him carefully, not believing him for a moment as he looked barely nineteen, but what reason did he have to lie?

"So you were married, and something happened to her?"

"She was with child, our first year in marriage, and she died in childbirth. As did my son." He was still staring at the ground, expression blank and grave. Diedre wasn't sure how to respond. Her mind was swimming with the sweet mead, and she didn't trust her tongue to be gentle. Who was she kidding, she never expected her tongue to be gentle, it was not her nature. His spirit wolf, which was lying near the fire, suddenly whined and slunk back toward Kellen's tent, which was between the two companions. It sat with its head bowed and ears back, whining and seeming to be in pain. Diedre blinked, and felt suddenly compelled to call the animal to her. She held out her right hand and clicked her fingers, gesturing to the animal to come near. It looked at her slowly, still making a high-pitched cry before coming to her side, tail between its legs and ears folded back. It sat upon the ground next to her before placing its front legs in her lap and laying its head down upon them, still crying. She wound her fingers through the wolf's thick, soft fur, scratching it idly between the ears and petting down its neck and back. Eventually it calmed, and she too found herself starting to nod off against her chest of belongings. She opened her eyes lazily to look across to Kellen, who now looked relaxed. His head leaned back against the canvas of the wagon, eyes closed, with a peaceful expression upon his face. She found that she could keep her eyes open no longer from the mixture of mead, the warm fire, and the softness of the spirit wolf's fur beneath her fingers. Her eyes slid shut and she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**After Thoughts:** Too gory for a Teen rating? Let me know! I appreciate it! 

Also, I have gotten back into actually playing D2. I had gotten bored with it after beating it so many times and having nobody else to play with. (I wasn't really big in playing BN games, not sure why.) A few of my gamer friends had an impromptu LAN party, and they suggested playing D2. I got excited, thinking that I could actually be of some help with it, but then they showed me that they were playing the Zy-El: Trial by Fire mod. Intrigued? Why yes I was. Although everything seems way out of proportion on damage scales and such, the mod is actually extremely challenging. They've helped me rush though, through IP connects and such, and I've finally gotten to a place with my Assassin where I can handle Act 1 and part of Act 2 by myself. And no, I did not name her Diedre (I named her Anira actually, a close runner-up name for this story), but I am sorely tempted to change the filenames to that. Haha! Well, R&R if you see fit, and we shall see how life treats me in order to get the rest of this underway. Thank you, once more!


End file.
